


so madly in love

by eg1701



Series: hunger games au [1]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, But also not, Gen, M/M, Multi, No One Wanted This, achilles calls patroclus "pat" alot, also hector is really The Worst, also pat uses a bow, and achilles is kinda katniss, briseis is highkey gale, for irony, pat is kinda peeta, some random greek characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: every year, two children from each of the twelve districts are chosen to fight each other to the death, until one remains the victor.for Achilles and Patroclus, each year of eligibility has come and gone, and each year they've been safe. it's their last year. neither expects to be chosen.but what's life without a little irony?______or, the hunger games au no one asked for and no one needs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey no one wanted this, i was just watching catching fire and thinking about achilles

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. I wonder where Patroclus has gotten too. He usually sleeps in. But I guess on the day of Reaping, everyone is entitled to an early morning walk. I hope he hasn’t gone beyond the fence. He likes to go out there to think, but every time he does could be the last time. It only takes one Peacekeeper to see him, to report him. He says it’s worth the risk to be in nature like that, but I don’t believe him. Nothing is worth the risk here.  
I know there’s no use going back to sleep, and Dad will probably be up soon anyway, if he’s not already, so I push the rest of the covers off, and get up. It’s clear and almost sunny out- a beautiful day for a Reaping.  
I pull on a shirt and stumble into the kitchen. Dad is up, at the kitchen table, sewing a hole in one of his shirts.  
“I need you to go to the Hob before the Reaping. There’s some goat’s milk and yarn you can trade. I need candles.”  
I nod and sit down. He pushes a plate of bread and hard cheese over towards me. I’m not hungry in the slightest but I know I should eat. And this is probably his breakfast he’s giving up for me.  
“Did you see Pat this morning?”  
He nods, without looking up, “He said he was going out. I didn’t ask where so I can’t be responsible if he goes over the fence. Achilles, remember your promise to him.”  
I nod and wave my hand dismissively, “I always hope one of you will forget to remind me one year. I will not volunteer for him. You know that. He knows that. Everyone knows that.”  
He nods back, content at my answer, “finish your breakfast and get to the Hob please. You both need to get washed up before the Reaping.”  
I shove the rest of the bread into my mouth and nod, “I’ll be back in just a bit.”  
I grab the yarn and milk off the counter and pull my jacket on with one hand. It’s a bit too small on me, but I know we can’t afford a new one.  
“If Pat gets back before me, tell him I know,” I say, “That I remember.”  
“Got it.”  
\-----  
The Hob is busier than usual. People are doing last minute trades I guess, anything to get them out of the house. It’s mainly older people, or as old as people get in District 12, and many of them look at me with a mixture of pity and relief- it’s not them, it’s not their children. They’ve survived. They just have to watch.  
I think it’s awful, but next year I’ll probably be doing the same thing.  
I trade in what dad’s given me and the old woman gives me extra and wishes me luck today. I give her a half smile in return. I don’t think I can say anything.  
I take the long way back, with the candles tucked into my pocket. Every step kicks up coal dust and no one meets each other’s eyes.  
They’re starting to get ready. A few hovercrafts fly overhead and there’s more Peacekeepers than usual. The Reaping is still a few hours away, but I already feel the nerves bubbling in my stomach.  
I want to get home to Patroclus. He always knows what to say before the Reapings.  
And it’s our last year. After today we can be safe. There will be no more weeks of anxiety and sleepless nights. We can live in relative security. Sure we'll be starving, the Peacekeepers can come into our home and kill us if they want, and we still have to watch the games, but there will be no threat of competing in them. I can't wait for that feeling of relief. I have never known it. 

He’s there when I get back, at the table with a small boy and his mother. The boy seems to have a slight cut on his face, and Patroclus is stitching him up.  
“That should do it,” He says, taking the needle from his mouth and smiling, “Just keep the dressings clean for about a week or so, and if there’s any sort of pain or swelling you can put this on it, or come back to see me. I’ll be here.”  
Patroclus hands the woman a small jar of something, and she tries to offer payment in the form of a loaf of bread.  
“That’s alright, you keep it. How old are you?” He asks the boy.  
“Ten,” he replies. Too young. Soon enough though. Patroclus must think the same thing I do, because his smile tightens ever so slightly. Does this boy understand the fear his mother must be feeling? Does he get it?  
The woman almost bursts into tears. I can see when she walks past me, because she's trying hard to wipe her eyes before she makes it outside. I love to see Patroclus helping people, because that’s what he’s meant to do.  
“Hey,” he says, turning to wash his hands, “Where were you?”  
“Hob,” I reply setting the candles on the table “How’s Briseis?”  
“Good. Worried,” he dries his hands, “Your dad said he’d be back before the Reaping. There was a sick baby I asked him to check up on. Shouldn't be too difficult."  
We sort of just look at each other for a moment. He’s not quite as tall as me still, but his skin is tanner than usual from working outside. His shirt is a bit too small and it pulls taut across his chest. I wonder if he’s as nervous as I am. He’s brilliant and quick on his feel. He knows every remedy but he’s not fighter. I’m the fighter. That’s why I offered to volunteer if he got picked that first year, and that’s when the promise started.  
“You’ve got coal dust in your hair,” he says finally, breaking the tension with that smile I adore. I’m blonde and paler than him, so the dust shows up much more on me. He has never let me forget that. But this isn't what I wanted him to say.  
“I’ll go wash up first then,” I say, setting my jacket on the table, “Patroclus, you have to start taking payment for that kind of stuff.”  
He shakes his head before I'm even done speaking, just like he always does, “You know I won’t. They’ll pay me back in time, when they can really afford it. No one can afford anything during the Reaping. She’ll help me out one day, it all works out. Let them eat that bread tonight, should the worst happen for her family. She said she had a daughter who's thirteen."  
I shake my head, “I’ll never understand that about you.”  
\-----  
My father has laid clothes out for both of us. Old shirts of his. It’s better to have something be big on us rather than small. After I clean as much coal dust as I can off of me, turning the bath water murky and dark, I pick the blue shirt and tan pants, and pull them on quickly.  
“I’m done,” I call to Pat, tossing the towel back into the bathroom.  
“Then come finish up this bread will you?” Dad calls back. I guess he’s done with the sick baby. I hurry into the kitchen and take over kneading the bread.  
“Is the baby alright?” I ask.  
“She should be. Just a slight cough. Patroclus said he had just the medicine for it and parents always worry about their children more so than is actually necessary.”  
He gives me this sort of look that tells me he’s all too familiar with those parental worries. Pat and I have given him enough to worry about these past years, I’m sure.  
Patroclus has been living with us since he was nine. He father was too drunk to care for him, and just disappeared one day. We think he got drunk, and got too out of bounds. He's probably dead. It might be better for him if he was dead. They don’t take too kindly to people they find outside of the fences. I shudder to think what would happen if they find Patroclus out there.  
Patroclus has told us countless times how grateful he is. It's not easy to raise even your own children here and my dad had no obligation to take in Pat.  
I don’t know if I could do it, even if I could afford it. I wouldn’t want to raise kids here, knowing there was a chance they could get shipped off to die.  
“So, told Patroclus you’re in love with him yet?” He jokes, easing down into a chair. I know he's trying to take my mind off of things, but it's so sudden I freeze.  
“He knows how I feel about him and will you keep your voice down?”  
“If he knows why do I have to keep my voice down? How do you know he knows- don’t stop kneading.”  
I begin again, , “We sleep in the same bed every night. He knows I’d volunteer for him. We’re, in a sense, a couple”  
“But have you said the words? Have you looked him in the eyes and said ‘I love you.’ That's the test Achilles. You have to say it to make it true."  
My silence is his answer.  
“Then none of that matters.”  
I want to reply, but Patroclus joins us, dressed in a white shirt that he’s not done buttoning.  
An alarm, from the square tells us we have ten minutes to be at the Reaping.  
We all sort of flinch, just slightly.  
“Let’s get going,” Dad says, picking up his jacket, “We don’t want to be late.”  
I nod, and reach for Patroclus. He takes my hand and squeezes it, to reassure me.  
He wouldn’t survive those games. He’d make allies, I know that. And he’d probably be able to hunt. And it’s not that he’s not strong, it’s that he’s not ruthless enough. If it was just a game of surviving the elements he could win, easily. But I think the other Tributes would see him as an easy target. Too nice to fight back, and not the best at fighting. I think they'd enjoy hunting him down.  
It makes me hold his hand tighter as we join the crowds of others filing into the square.

After they prick our fingers, we take a spot with the older boys. It’s our last year. This is the last time we’ll have to do this. Just a few more hours.  
Pandora, the woman they send down from the Capitol, is sitting up on stage, waiting for us all to get settled. She’s dressed outlandishly in a pure white wig, and a sort of gold, drapey dress. She looks at us with a sense of superiority, and mild revulsion.  
“Gold is not her color,” Patroclus mutters and I laugh, though I know it’s forced. He's just trying to make me laugh I suppose.  
District 12 has had three previous Victors. Two of them are dead now, having won the Games ages ago. They only one left is a man named Chiron. I’ve met him once and he seems sort of quiet, reserved. I suppose that’s fair considering all he's done. I would imagine training two kids every year, just to watch them die takes a toll on a person.  
I bet he drinks. I would.  
\-----  
When everyone has settled down, they play that stupid movie about how horrible the Rebellion was, and how the Capitol brought peace and prosperity to the land, so the least we can do is offer up 12 kids every year.  
“It gets worse every year,” I mutter, “I don’t know how they do it.”  
“Don’t make me laugh,” he says, and I can tell he is forcing himself not to smile. I’m holding his arm now, instead of his hand, and it’s as if we’re both keeping each other standing, "The Peacekeepers don't like it when you laugh."  
“Welcome everyone,” Pandora says, jumping up at her cue of the end of the movie. She actually had her eyes closed during it, as if it was some kind of prayer.  
No one cheers for her, but they never do. She must have learned not to take it personally. She’s annoying, sure, but this is her job. She can’t like watching the kids die either.  
Then again, I don’t pretend to understand how the minds of the Capitol work. Maybe she loves it. They started all this didn’t they?  
“Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor. Shall we begin?”  
She steps forward in her ridiculously high heels and dips a sequined hand into the bowl to draw out the first name. We're not wasting any time I see.  
There is absolute silence. Everyone is on edge. Parents whisper old prayers in the back. Siblings try to find each other's faces in the crowd. Friends and lovers cling to one another.  
She clears her throat to read the first name.  
“Patroclus Menoetius.”  
As always, everyone looks around for the person. I actually watch the color drain from Pat’s face.  
“You keep your mouth shut,” he mutters, untangling my arm from his, “I’m going.”  
She repeats his name, as if we didn't hear every syllable, and the crowd clears a path. A Peacekeeper helps him onto the stage, which is good, because he looks like he might pass out. People know Patroclus. I don’t think there’s very many families who haven’t been to our house for either him or my father. Pat is better, my father is average. Dad taught him all he could and Pat picked up the rest from the local apothecary. They usually ask for him and my father is thrilled to pass them along.  
Pandora sort of pats him on the back, and he looks like he might be sick.  
I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I promised I wouldn’t volunteer for him, but I never said I wouldn’t volunteer to go with him.  
It’s probably not smart, but we do stupid things for the people we love don’t we?  
She sticks her hand back into the bowl, to draw out the next name. Whoever it is, it’s their lucky day.  
She clears her throat again, but honestly, she knows she has everyone’s attention. I think she wants all eyes on her.  
I don’t even catch the name, I’m so focused on what I have to do. It looks like a girl, from the turning of heads, but I step out into the path and take a deep breath.  
“I volunteer,” I say, keeping my voice as steady as possible, “I volunteer as Tribute.”  
Patroclus looks both very angry and somewhat relieved. More angry though.  
How many people know about us? Gossip travels fast, and I’m sure those looks of pity are because they know I’m going to die so that he may live.  
Pandora seems a little shaken because District 12 has never had a volunteer before. She’s not sure of the procedure, but a Peacekeeper leads me to the stage, and she covers very easily.  
“What is your name?” She asks.  
I can see, out of the corner of my eye, that Patroclus looks like he might cry. He won’t let himself, I know that, but it looks like he could.  
“Achilles,” I say, “Achilles Pelides.”  
She smiles, “Let’s have a round of applause for our two Tributes then.”  
No one claps. But one by one, they press three fingers to their lips and raise it to us. It’s an old gesture in our District, a goodbye, a farewell.  
She asks us to shake hands and I can feel Pat shaking.  
\-----  
I don’t know who’s more upset with me, my dad or Patroclus. The Peacekeepers tell us we have three minutes and I think they’re going to use the whole time shouting at me.  
“You swore to me,” Pat spits, “You promised me you wouldn’t volunteer for me.”  
“I didn’t,” I point out. Alright, now wasn't the time for that.  
“Achilles-” Dad tries.  
“Look, I get it. I know what I did and I’m aware of the consequences. I couldn’t bare it. I couldn’t stand by and watch you die Pat. I’m sorry.”  
They’re both silent. Dad breaks it.  
“It was brave of you son,” he says, and kisses my forehead, “And you need to take care of yourself too.”  
I sort of nod, “Something like that.”  
Patroclus still looks upset with me, so I pull him into an embrace. He lets me kiss him, but I can tell he's unhappy with me. If I take care of him, I'll be taking care of me. That's what I tell myself.  
“I wish you hadn’t done this Achilles,” he whispers, “but I’m glad if I had to be here, you’re with me. I can’t watch you die.”  
“It’ll be ok.”  
I wish I could really promise him that.  
“Boys, here,” dad says, pulling a small bag from his pocket, “for good luck. One belonged to my father, one to me. I keep them with me but I think you need them now.”  
They're rings. They're old, and need to be polished up but they're like wedding rings. It's not lost on me. Patroclus thanks him and slides it onto his left ring finger. I do the same.  
They’re telling dad to go, and he pulls us both into a hug, and kisses us both on the forehead, “You be safe boys.”  
Just like that, they escort him out and the door shuts with a note of finality.  
“I’m sorry Pat, I just couldn’t do it.”

\-----  
Pandora takes us to the train by car. I’ve never been in a car before and I wish I could enjoy it. But she sits in between the two of us and just talks the whole time. Then again, I don't think I could enjoy this car ride even if she kept her mouth shut.  
Chiron isn’t in the car, and I don’t see him when we board the train. I wonder if he’s already on board, or if maybe he gets to the Capitol on his own. The Capitol doesn't tell the Districts much about the games. And there aren't many victors who will.  
The dining car, where we sit is packed full of food. I’ve never seen this much food, much less been able to eat any of it. That being said, I don’t think I can eat any of it. We sit, on the sofa next to each other, though there’s separate chairs. It’s a habit.  
“I’m going to go find Chiron,” she says clapping her hands together slightly, “I will be right back.”  
“Do you see all of this?” Patroclus asks, “I get kids almost daily who are starving. Just last month I watched a baby die from malnutrition and they have this?”  
There is disgust in his voice I have never heard before. It’s a little surprising. But he is not wrong.  
“What did you expect?”  
He frowns, “I don’t know. This I guess, but it’s different seeing it.”  
Chiron comes in, followed by Pandora. She always glares at him like he’s an ill behaved child. He pours himself a drink and looks us over, as if sizing us up. Maybe he can tell how long a person will last in the games just by a glance. Maybe he guesses.  
“Congratulations I suppose,” he says, taking a long sip of some dark colored liquid, “You volunteered. Why?”  
I don’t really want to discuss our relationship with these two people I’ve never met. I barely discuss it with my dad and I’ve known him my whole life.  
“I don’t suppose that’s really your concern. I did and that’s that,” I say. I could tell Patroclus was trying to formulate a response without revealing too much. He’s a private person.  
“That’s a good attitude, I’m sure the sponsors will love that,” he mutters and downs the rest of the drink and pours another.  
Pandora gets to talking. I can tell she doesn’t like the quiet or Chiron's attitude. At point, I rest my hand on Pat’s knee and I think Chiron gets his answer.  
She gives us a brief overview of what will happen when we get to the Capitol and reminds us to be on our best behavior- that was probably directed at me- because it’s always a chance to show off for the sponsors. Patroclus sits up and listens intently. I slouch. I am not planning on living myself, just long enough to ensure he wins. I don’t need the sponsors. He does.  
Besides, I’m not very likable, I’m too arrogant and terrible at making friends. I doubt I could get a sponsor even if I wanted one.  
“You’ll get your first look at the Capitol soon,” Pandora says, “If you want to see.”  
“Sure,” Patroclus stands up and goes to the window. We hear the crowd before we see them. They’re cheering for us. It’s very odd. I don’t wish to see them.


	2. Chapter 2

When we arrive, they separate us.  
I don’t like being apart in an unfamiliar place like this, but since they need to keep us alive for the Games, I figure it’s alright. And I bet I could fight my way back to him if I had to.  
I'm ushered into a room where they tell me to undress and discuss how best to make me look presentable for my stylist, who is apparently someone named Phoinix. They wash me again and give me a haircut. I don't know if I have ever been this clean.  
Phoenix, said stylist, is probably in his forties and he smiles kindly at me. By Capitol standards, his outfit and style is fairly low key. The only different characteristic is the amount of piercings is ears and the slightly platinum color of his hair.  
He tells the others they can leave.  
“That was very brave to volunteer,” he says, “I'm so sorry you're in this position. Are you alright?”  
“Nobody has asked me that,” I say, slightly shocked at his caring nature. I just assumed everyone in the Capitol was a headless monster, “I'm scared out of my mind honestly.”  
He nods, “With good reason. Alright, so first up is the Tribute parade. This is all of the potential sponsors first chance to get a good look at you and so we want to make a good impression. I've talked to Patroclus’ stylist, Cassandra and we've come up with a plan.”  
“What's the theme?”  
“Usually we showcase your districts export. The ones from twelve are always dressed in mining uniforms and they never stand out. None of that this year. We're going to get you boys some sponsors. They won't know what hit them."  
I like him.  
“So what's the plan?”  
He smiles, “just you wait.”  
\-----  
“So you promise we won't actually catch on fire?” Patroclus confirms with the woman who must be his stylist. Pandora and Chiron stand nearby. Chiron takes a swig from his flask and Pandora looks like she approves of us and she looks excited.  
“I promise you,” Cassandra says, with a slight chuckle, “your outfits are completely fireproof and the flames aren't dangerous anyway. They are merely for show.”  
I move to stand by Patroclus and admire our matching shiny black outfits.  
“You really are blonde under all that dust,” he jokes. He loves that joke.  
I smile because I don't know how many more times I'll get to hear it. I keep reminding myself I have no plan to survive these games, but that I am the only one who can make sure Pat does. I am going to die and he is going to live.  
I wonder how many people have gone into the games solely with the purpose of ensuring someone else’s survival. It’s a very odd feeling. I cannot really put it into words.  
“Just remember to smile,” Pandora says, “that's very important.”  
We nod and help each other up onto the chariot. We'll go last of course.  
Patroclus reaches for my hand, I wonder if he's nervous, and Pandora seems to love it. I don't think she's put anything together about us yet. Chiron has. There's a different look of pity in his eyes. I think he knows my plan. I’m waiting for him to ask me what the hell I think I am doing.  
I'm aware of the fire, but Cassandra was right. I don't feel a thing. That being said it's a little spooky to know you're on fire and no going to burn.  
Patroclus seems to like this, maybe he’s trying to revel in this before the games. His face lights up and he marvels at the Capitol.  
I try to.  
I do. This is a grandeur I have never experienced and will never experience again. But I can't bring myself to. It’s just not registering in my brain that I should try to enjoy this.  
It's nice that they treat us nice before they kill us I guess.  
The crowd is going nuts. They seem to enjoy each District more than the last. But they really lose it for us. Patroclus laughs and it's a laugh that reaches his eyes and makes me smile myself. He has the effect on people. I've always had to smile when he's happy.  
That could be part of the being hopelessly in love.  
We wave to the cheers and I get my first in person look at our dear President Agamemnon. He's cruel from what I have heard. Someone in the Hob once told me he sentenced one of his daughters to death. I don't know how much of what I hear is true, but as the president of a country where twenty four kids are sentenced to a death match once a year, I don't think he has much of a heart. How could you?  
Once all of the chariots have lined up in front of him he looks down from his podium. It’s like an old god, from the stories, looking down on his worshippers, all of them fully aware he could snap his fingers and kill them where they stand. I think he has that power, even though he’s just a man.  
“Welcome ladies and gentleman,” he smirks, or more like sneer, “to another Hunger Games, and as always may the odds be ever in your favor.”  
“Or something like that,” I mutter.  
\------  
After the parade, Pandora leads us to the elevator and up to the very top floor. The whole floor is ours and it’s larger than our house back home. One floor.  
“You two can go get changed before dinner if you like,” Pandora says, tossing her bag onto the table. An Avox rushes over and hangs it in the closet. She expects to be waited on.  
Chiron makes his way to the drinks. Shocker.  
“I'm not very hungry,” Patroclus says, “I think I'll go to bed.”  
With that, he makes his way to one of the bedrooms and shuts the door after him.  
“Does he know your plan?” Chiron asks the moment the door is shut. Pandora looks up and frowns as if to say, ‘what plan?’  
I shake my head, “he probably is trying to come up with a way where we both win.”  
“Tough luck.”  
I nod, “yeah. That's the thing. He could make it without me. He has a job, people who care about him. He'd be sad but he'd make it through. I just have him really.”  
“I’m not telling you your plan is wrong. Hell, if I was in your place I might do the same thing. I'm just letting you know, he's not going to be happy with you.  
\------  
Later that night, I knock lightly to let Pat know I'm there, then push the door open.  
“Can I sleep here tonight?” I ask.  
He nods, and pulls back the covers for me.  
“What are you watching?”  
“Old games. It was a bad idea. I thought it might prepare me or something it it's just horrifying.”  
I take the remote from him and shut the screen off.  
I pull him against me until we're one mess of legs and arms. I kiss the top of his head and don't say anything.  
“I know what you're planning Achilles,” he whispers, “and I'm going to do everything I can to stop you. You're not leaving me in this world alone. Not now. Do you understand me?”  
I nod and he wipes his eyes.  
“I’d like to try and sleep,” he says,“you can stay up if you like.”  
“Nah,” I say and together we lean back and try to sleep.  
\------  
In the morning, I wake up early and leave Patroclus to sleep.  
Though no one else is here just yet, they've already put out an elaborate display of breakfast food. I pile on as much as I can since I didn't eat much dinner last night and sit down at the table.  
If I get up early, Patroclus is usually never far behind though I tell him he needs to try sleeping in. He says he doesn't like sleeping alone. He says when he reaches out in the morning and I am not there, he has no desire to remain in bed.  
“What time are we supposed to be down for training?” He asks, stifling a yawn and accepting the plate from me.  
“Seven. They're supposed to talk to us a bit before we get to training.”  
He nods, “do we even try to make alliances? You'd do well with those kids from one and two, the ones who always volunteer and always win. They’re strong, fast, and good at what they do.”  
I shake my head, “They'd just use me and betray me as soon as we got down in numbers.”  
He shrugs, “Alliances couldn't hurt I guess. I don't know. You're right of course about the whole betraying thing.”  
“I don't know. I think we should show them that we're not nothing. That they shouldn't discount us.”  
He rolls his eyes, “you could take any of them, sure. But I'm nothing special.”  
I frown, but Pandora’s screechy voice interrupts whatever argument we were about to have.  
\-----  
“In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead. One of you will be a Victor,” the woman says. We all sort of eye each other, “over the next four days you will learn how to use every weapon that will be at your disposal. Now I know you want to go straight to the arsenal but don't ignore the survival skills. You can't use a sword if you're too sick to even lift it. At the end of the four days, you'll be brought in for your individual evaluations to showcase a specific skill and receive a rating.”  
We nod to show our understanding and then break off. I want him to try some different weapons to see if he can find something he's halfway decent at. He's no good with a spear. Some of the careers actually chuckles to themselves, so I throw a spear, and hit the dummy in the head without even trying.  
They don't laugh now. I hope that gets my message across.  
He doesn't like swords. Which is good because he's awful at it.  
Instead, we take a break from that, and learn how to make a fire. There's no need to learn healing. Patroclus is probably more knowledgeable than this Capitol person.  
He actually corrects him a few times, under his breath and it makes me smile.  
\-----  
“I'd like to try a bow and arrow,” Patroclus says, on the third day of training. People are starting to specialize and no one seems to favor it.  
“That's the one thing I can't stand,” I reply, “But let’s give it a shot.”  
He pushes himself up from where we’ve been practicing fire again.  
I glance at the Careers and ensure they’re otherwise occupied. I don’t like how they’re looking at Pat. Like he’s an easy target.  
He spends time examining the bows. I know one of the Careers, Paris likes the weapon, but just because he likes it doesn’t mean he’s very good. He’s got his brother, Hector though to protect him. Hector is ruthless and bloodthirsty. I wouldn’t like to cross him.  
He looks at me like he approves though. Like he thinks I’d be a worthy opponent.  
“Briseis taught me how to do this once, when we were younger,” he explains, “But I wasn’t strong enough to pull the string back, and never really saw a need to practice.”  
He’s strong enough now though, and when he releases, we watch the arrow hit just slightly left of the bullseye.  
“I don’t like it, but I’ll take it,” he says with a shrug, “I just don’t think I’m cut out for weapons.”  
“Pat I’m so glad you’ve got something to protect you,” I say, “It’s alright you don’t like it.”  
“You don't have to stay with me Achilles. You go practice. I'll work on this.”  
\-----  
On the day of our evaluations they have us all sit and wait for our turn. I’m supposed to go last.  
We sit there, hand in hand, in silence.  
“What are you going to do?” I ask finally. They’re on District 11, so it’ll be his turn soon.  
“I'm not sure yet,” he chuckles, “I should have probably given it some more thought. I'll just do whatever feels right.”  
“Make sure you mention how smart you are,” I say.  
He kisses my cheek, “Thanks. I'll meet you back at the apartment then?”  
I nod as they call his name, “Good luck.”  
I bounce one leg up and down while I wait.  
As the Games draw nearer I'm more and more worried. No, not worried. Worried isn't the right word. I think anxious is a better word. I've already accepted what I need to do but I'm 18. Thinking about dying is enough to make anyone anxious. And it’s not even that I mind dying, not for him. It’s just so final.  
When it's my turn, I draw a deep breath and stand up. Just make a good impression. That's what Pandora said. Make them remember you had been Chiron’s advice.  
I get in there and introduce myself. Priam, the head Gamemaker, nods and I figure that’s my cue to start.  
But just as I pick up my spear to show them why I can do, two Avoxes bring out a giant roast pig and they turn to that. I give them the benefit of the doubt and throw it. It hits the dummy smack in the chest, where the heart would be but that doesn't get their attention.  
So I decide to try something that will.  
I pick up another spear, this one a bit smaller and toss it right the apple in the pig’s mouth, pinning it to the wall.  
That certainly gets their attention. All four of them turn to me and instead of explaining myself, I give a sort of bow and thank them for their time.  
I'm going to get a one, I think as I half jog back upstairs. I’m afraid they’re going to throw the spear back at me.  
\-----  
Pandora is absolutely furious when she shows up for the score announcements. I don't know how she found out.  
“You've embarrassed all of us,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration.  
“Loosen up,” Chiron says, toasting me with his glass, “He wanted to make sure they remembered him. What did they say, when you threw the spear?”  
“Not much. I just thanked them and booked it out of there.”  
At the sound of the announcement begin Patroclus hops over the back of the sofa and throws his legs into my lap. He's gotten more relaxed about affection since we got here. I suppose he's worried we don't have much time left for affection and he’s making the most of it.  
“As you know, each of the Tributes are rated based on their individual evaluation on a scale of 1 to 12, 12 being the highest. These scores will be used by future sponsors,” Menelaus, the announcer says.  
Everyone leans forward a bit.  
Hector gets a 9. That’s not unexpected. What is unexpected is Paris getting a 6. It’s not bad, but it’s not very good either. Phoinix makes a comment to Cassandra that I can’t hear. Probably a comment about favoritism. The Capitol always favors the richer kids.  
Ajax, another one of the Careers gets a 10, which even though I’m not interested in being his ally, is impressive.  
Deidameia, the only female Career gets an 8.  
All in all, the scores are about what I expected. The younger Tributes score 5’s and 6’s.  
God, those kids are 12. How do I let them die? I haven’t thought about that yet. If Patroclus is going to win, those kids are going to die.  
“And now, from District 12, Patroclus,” Menelaus says, “with a score of 8.”  
Pandora squeals and claps her hands together, and Chiron pats him on the back. Pat leans back in his seat.  
“We can work with that,” Pandora assures us.  
“And finally Achilles, with a score of,” he pauses and rereads the number. I totally got a 1. I’m the first Tribute ever to get a 1. They’ve just killed me.  
“A score of 11,” he says, looking thoroughly shocked. He’s not the only one.  
“I thought they hated me,” I mutter, breathlessly.  
“They thought you were brave,” Chiron explains, “that’s the only explanation.”  
Patroclus throws his arms around me, “Good job.”  
\-----  
On the morning of the interviews, we stay in bed for a while and discuss our plans. This is our finally shot to make a good impression on the people who may make all the difference. And I have a problem getting people to like me, I really do. I’m too arrogant and distant. That and there’s not much time left for lazy mornings in bed. I want to soak it up, I want to soak him up. I decide to try and memorize every line on his face, every curve, every freckle.  
How much time do we have left?  
There’s a scar on his forehead, from when he was nine and got into a fight with another boy. There’s dimples on his back that I can see when he lays on his stomach at night. The freckles on his nose are like stars. I try to count them sometimes, but get lost in his eyes, which seems to change colors depending on the light in the room.  
I love each and everything about him.  
“When they ask you why you volunteered, as I know they will, you should tell them,” he says, “I know we’re private about this, but maybe it’ll help. It’s a thought.”  
“Patroclus I volunteered because I love you.”  
He nods, “I know why you did it Achilles.”  
“No, I just mean I’ve never told you that I love you.”  
He smiles, “I love you too.”  
His hair always sticks up in the back in the mornings, it’s too long to lay flat. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle and his face lights up. How many times do I have left to see him smile?  
“If they ask, I’ll tell them. Which of us goes first?”  
He shrugs, “I’ll confirm your story if I’m second. Though I think it’s obvious. You don’t volunteer for just anyone.”  
\-----  
Patroclus fixes my tie. I’m supposed to go first out of the two of us. Chiron sat us down about three hours ago and kicked Pandora out of the room. She tried to give us some advice as well, but apparently Chiron didn’t think it was very good advice. It mainly consisted of laugh at all of the jokes, and smile a lot. She’s not the deepest thinker, but she seems to be trying.  
“You just have to make the audience enjoy you up there. They’ve already got your scores, so they can see how physically capable you are, but if a possible sponsor is presented two Tributes, who both have the same score, they’re going to choose the one who’s interview went better. Make them laugh, make them like you. You especially Achilles. Lord knows you need it.”  
I told him we had somewhat of a plan.  
I go on after Cressida, the girl from 11. She made them like her by telling a story about climbing in trees or something. She’s young too.  
And then it’s my turn. Patroclus squeezes my hand for luck and I step out into the lights which are far too bright. I have to squint at first. Everyone claps politely for me and Menelaus shakes my hand as we both sit down. I can’t hear much over the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears.  
I think he says something to me, but I don’t hear him so I say, “What?”  
He and the audience chuckle. The audience is so colorful, which is a sharp contrast to my almost entirely black suit. Phoinix is keeping with the coal theme.  
“I asked if you were enjoying your time in the Capitol.”  
“Oh,” I say, “Oh yes. It’s nice to not be covered in coal dust. Do you know how hard that is to get out?”  
They all laugh again. It’s not particularly funny, but I’ll take what I can get.  
“I can’t say I do,” Menelaus says, not losing his jovial tone, “Now, Achilles, we were all surprised to see you volunteer. The outer Districts have few volunteers. Did you know the girl that was reaped?”  
“Honestly,” I say, sitting back, “I couldn’t even tell you her name. I volunteered for Patroclus.”  
“And why’s that?”  
“Because I’m in love with him.”  
The muttering from the crowd tells me this statement has exactly the affect on them I thought it would. It’s the truth though.  
“So you volunteered to-”  
“To take care of him, yes.”  
“Then I wish you both the very best of luck,” Menelaus is more serious than I have ever heard him.  
\-----  
Patroclus nods to me, but we don’t get a chance to speak before it’s his turn to be interviewed. Pandora doesn’t say anything when I get back and I feel I’ve really accomplished something to leave her speechless. She hasn’t stopped talking this whole time. This must be new.  
“How do you feel about this whole situation?” Menelaus asks.  
Thoughtful as ever, Patroclus considers his response, “When we were twelve, just old enough for the Reaping I made Achilles promise me that he would never volunteer for me. Out of the two of us he’s the stronger, he’d be the better competitor, but if he were to die, I couldn’t live with the guilt knowing it was supposed to be me. We haven’t had to deal with that until this year. He managed to find a loophole in our agreement.”  
“Because of his feelings for you?”  
Patroclus looks down at his hands, at the ring on his finger. I gave him my father’s and kept my grandfather’s for myself. They are almost identical.  
He nods, “And my feelings for him. Were our situations reversed and they called his name first, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing.”  
“Once again Patroclus, I wish you the best of luck in these Games.”  
Patroclus nods, “I don’t think I’ll need luck, not with him on my side.”  
Oh the crowd is eating this up. Maybe we can pull off a sponsorship. People like young love. It’s something to root for.  
\-----  
We spend some time on the roof that night.There's still plenty of lights and I wonder if the Capitol really ever sleeps. Patroclus has his knees pulled up against him. I want to reach over and touch him but I feel awkward.  
I'm not sure why. I've never felt awkward around him before.  
“Are you scared?” he whispers, “about the Games I mean.”  
I shrug, “Sort of. I don't know.”  
He nods and turns to look at me as if I need to say something because he can't and the silence is killing him. It's killing me too.  
“It's just, we’re like pawns for them you know? These games aren't about anything except the Capital’s entertainment. They can do whatever they like to us in that Arena. We can train all we like but they can snap their fingers and kill us all,” he finally says. He turns away from me, and looks out over the city. The electricity comes from District Two. The Capitol can’t even make their own power. No wonder they rely on the Districts to entertain them.  
I reach over, and squeeze his hand.  
“We should go to bed,” I say, “it's late.”  
“You go. I want to stay up a bit longer.”  
I shake my head, “I'll stay with you then. Keep you company.”  
\-----  
The next morning dawns far too early. Pandora is waking us up and telling us to eat breakfast. I can feel myself starting to shake. I have no desire to eat, but I shove some bacon and eggs down my throat without thinking too much. Chiron is giving us last minute advice. His normally unconcerned tone is shaking slightly. I think maybe he likes us just a bit.  
“You'll want to head straight to the Cornucopia. Don't. It's a bloodbath. You get there and you find water. Water is your new best friend.”  
“Then how do we get weapons?” I prompt.  
“There will be some items on the outskirts. Get some of those, and worry about weapons later. It's better to have the necessities and stay out of the way. Once the numbers are lower, it’s easier to get what you want.”  
And then Pandora is telling us it's time to go.  
We take the elevator all the way down, where they load us onto a hovercraft. Everyone looks pale and no one speaks. They inject us all with a tracker and then we take off. One girl across from me is mouthing to herself silently and I wonder if she's praying. My father does that sometimes. It's archaic. There's no God anymore, just the president.  
It takes about ten agonizing minutes to get there. I know it's only ten minutes because Patroclus tells me he counted the whole way for something to do. It felt like years.  
They separate us all again, to meet with our stylists- the irony of meeting with a stylist before marching to our very possible deaths is not lost on me. Phoinix doesn't say much as he helps me dress. Judging by the looks of the outfit- windbreaker, hiking boots- I would say it's a wooded area. A big forest maybe.  
“You still planning on keeping him alive?” He asks, zippering my jacket. I watch him stick the ring in one of the inner pockets.  
I nod, “I will keep him alive.”  
He nods again, a voice tells us it's time and he puts his hands on my shoulders, “Good luck Achilles.”  
I think he wants to say more. I think I want to say more but I don’t. I just nod and step into the tube. It starts to rise, taking me up to the Arena. One by one we all pop up. I see Patroclus next to me. He smiles. It’s for my benefit. It’s not even much of a smile.  
Looking around I see my idea about the setting was right. The Cornucopia itself is in a big clearing but in all directions is forest. I see a spear but it's all the way practically inside the Cornucopia. I decide to take Chiron’s advice and not go for it.  
Patroclus nods his head slightly on one direction. That's where we'll meet he's telling me.  
I nod once.  
Ten. Nine.  
Everyone is straightening up, getting ready for battle. Hector already looks intimidating and glares at all of us, as if daring us to cross him.  
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone jumps down at once and the next second there's a clanging of metal. People run by me. I hesitate for just a moment and then decide to grab the nearest backpack. It's closer to the edge so I doubt it will have the best items, but no way am I going inside. I just watched three people die all by Hector’s hand.   
Someone comes for me. They want what I have. I don't want to give it up.   
Suddenly she goes stiff and I watch as the blood spurts out of her chest. She let's go but the girl who threw the knife is coming for me down. I use the bag as I shield and take off before she can even understand what's happened.   
I run until I almost trample Patroclus.   
“Are you alright?” He asks frantically, “are you hurt?”  
“I'm fine,” I say, “this isn't my blood.”  
“Oh my God,” he throws his arms around me, just for a second.   
“We need to get further away,” I tell him, “until we can't hear the noise.”  
He nods, “Come on.”  
And he takes my hand, and leads the way. We don't have much of a plan, but walking in one direction, towards quiet seems like good enough. Patroclus is determined too. His jaw is set and he doesn't talk much, except to remark once about some plants. He says that they grow in District 12 too.  
We must walk three or four miles before we stop. There's a shallow creek and I can hear nothing but a few birds.   
“What did you get?” He says.   
We both dump our bags out into a pile on the ground. Together we've amassed one knife, one set of matches, two water bottles- empty of course, why would they help us more than they need to- something that looks like a survival blanket, some rope, and a smaller blade that looks like it could be used to skin an animal.   
Then we pause, to listen to the final cannon count from this morning.   
Nine. It hadn't even been twelve hours and nine people who were alive this morning are not anymore. Who were they?   
“We still have time to make a fire,” Patroclus says, glancing up at the sky, “as long as it's our before night fall.”  
“Should I?”  
“I can do it. Do you want to look around to see if there’s anything to eat?”  
“Sure.”  
I peel off my jacket and pick up the knife. It feels strange in my hand at first. This could have killed me. She was going to kill me if she could.   
“Achilles?” his voice is soft, and it brings me back to reality.  
“Sorry, I’ll be back in just a bit,” I lean down and kiss the top of his head, “I love you.”  
“I love you too.”  
\-----  
“You sleep,” I say, “I'll stay up for a bit.”  
We found a sort of out of the way clearing deep in the trees. Patroclus thought it was safer not to sleep near the remains of the fire. That way, if by some miracle they saw it, or deduced there was a fire we’d be far away.   
“No no,” he replies, “I'll take the first watch. I'm alright.”  
I nod since I'm dead tired and settle against him. He uses his outer jacket as a pillow for me and I really don't want to sleep, I just want to rest but I don't wake up until the memorial for the tributes.   
Hector is still alive, as is his brother and the other careers.   
Patroclus shuts his eyes for a moment after the music stops.   
“I'll stay up now,” I say, rubbing my eyes, “come on, switch with me.”  
I think he wants to argue, but he yawns, so he agrees. I'm sitting up and there's a knife in my hand. He wraps his arms around me, using his jacket as a blanket and my stomach as a pillow.   
I run a hand through his hair absentmindedly, and look up at the stars. Everything is silent around us. There's not even any crickets. It’s very eerie.  
\----  
“I had a thought,” he says when two cannons wake him up, “but you won't like it.”  
“And why is that?” I ask, sitting up.   
“It involves us splitting up.”  
“You're right I don't.”  
He shakes his head, “Let me finish. You got an 11 Achilles. The Careers either want to kill you as soon as possible or ally themselves with you and kill you when there's less of us. Either way they don't need me. I know you have this desire to keep me alive and maybe that's easier if we're not together. You and I both know I can keep myself alive for a while. If I hide out.”  
“Why would we do that? There's not even two weapons Patroclus. It’s dangerous.”  
“It doesn't have to be right now. Maybe a little later in the game. I just was thinking.”  
“I don't like it,” I say, shaking my head, “but it's kind of smart. You'd be safer on your own. Everyone is safer on their own. Let's get some more weapons first though, then we can discuss it.”  
“Yeah. Sounds like a plan. We should get moving,” he looks up at the sun, as if he's trying to tell the time, “which way?”  
“Let's go back in a little bit. I thought I saw a fire the way we were going.”  
“Yeah. It was smart to move out originally but I bet a lot of people had that idea. Now that the Cornucopia is over we can go back in a bit.”  
And so we pack up our things and start walking back the way we came.   
\-----  
He hears them first, the Careers. We assume it's them because they're loud and not trying to hide themselves. Everyone else is hiding from them. They have an immense amount of power.  
We both freeze. That's always what you do right? In situations where you need to react quickly, you freeze up and can't move.   
I manage to move first and I grab Patroclus by the arm and because I can't think of anything else, I usher him into an area behind the bushes.   
Not a moment too soon, because they come around the corner and pause when the see me.   
“Hey lover boy,” Paris says, “where's your boyfriend?”  
“I don't know. We separated. I was actually looking for you.”   
The plan was to make this happen later but I guess it's happening now. I'm so glad Patroclus has our one weapon. I just hope I’m good at lying.   
“Oh?” Hector asks, smirking and cutting off Deidameia who was going to reply. Probably something snarky, “why’s that?”  
“I want to become allies.”  
“Why would we do that? What about him?”  
“There's one winner. Besides, you know you could kill me. I don't even have a weapon.”  
They consider this. I'm so anxious. Come on.  
“Fine,” Ajax says, “but you're not going to win with us. You want protection now and we'll give you that, in exchange for your help taking out the others. When things get down to a few, you better run, because we’ll hunt you down. Fair?”  
I nod, “Fair.”  
And so I stay at the back of the group and Patroclus gives me a nod. He'll go find a place to be, far away from the action. He'll be safer alone. He worries about me.   
I don't feel good about leaving him.  
\-------  
They honestly don't do much. They make little effort to hunt anyone down but they do give me a spear after threatening me if I use it against them. Honestly, the only person here I couldn't easily take is Hector. I still think I could though. The rest of them would be dead before they even hit the ground. I don’t know if they know that or not. If they do, they are good at pretending.   
One cannon goes off that day and I have no way of knowing if it's Patroclus until to night, so I just have to keep my mouth shut and pretend I don't feel sick.   
When the memorial plays that night, I can see it's not Patroclus. He's still very much alive and that is a huge weight off my chest.   
In the middle of the night, Ajax is waking me up and tells me we're going hunting.   
They hunt at night which gives them an advantage. When do they sleep?   
I follow because that's what I'm told to do.   
However I don't participate in the killing of two girls from 5 and 7. They don't seem to need me. They just ask me to keep watch.  
It's brutal. They enjoy killing. It’s not a I’m going to kill you because you’ll kill me, it’s an I like to watch you suffer, and I am better than you.   
Ajax takes the bow from one of the girl and I make a mental note to see if I can find one for Pat.   
I hope he's alright.   
Maybe we shouldn't have done this.   
We keep walking, me holding up the rear and Hector leading.   
“Hey, look who it is. Achilles come here,” Hector calls and I feel my stomach drop. Oh God.   
“What are you doing up there?” Paris calls.   
“Just hanging around,” Patroclus jokes, “What about you?”  
I roll my eyes.  
“Shoot him down Ajax,” Hector says without looking away from me. He's testing my loyalty. I don't break eye contact either.   
I wonder why he didn't ask Paris to do it. I know Paris likes the bow but I guess he didn't get any better at it than he was in training. Paris may be strong and intimidating looking, but he is not very talented. That’s a shame. I bet he only volunteered because it was expected.   
Ajax shoots twice and misses. I am very relieved. He gives up and the one who’s name I don't know just suggests waiting Pat out. He'll have to come down eventually.   
Hector seems content with this plan and so we all settle down on the ground.   
“You keep watch. If he's gone when we get up, you'll pay for it,” Paris says roughly.   
I nod, “Don't worry.”  
I position myself so I can look up at Patroclus.   
One by one they rest of them fall silent, leaving me alone.   
He's pointing at something but I don't know what.   
I move over a few inches to see if I can see what he does.   
I can. It's a Tracker Jacker nest. Huge. The Capitol invented them a few years back by modifying a very aggressive species of wasp. They’re stings produce hallucinations, and a large enough dose can kill.  
He holds up the knife, then points down at the Careers.   
If he does this I'll be in big trouble. But it might take a few of them out. I decide it’s worth it.   
He motions for me to get out of the way, but I think that's too obvious. Instead I shake my head and point at the knife. Do it.   
He frowns but starts sawing as quietly as he can. I am ready in case someone wakes up, but no one stirs.   
I motion for him to hurry up. I can tell he’s starting to get stung.  
It all happens at once. The nest falls and there’s a swarm.  
Everyone starts panicking and in doing so, they only make them angrier. I take off too, because why would I not? That’s not suspicious.   
I haven’t felt much like a Tracker Jacker sting before. They’re supposed to be extremely painful and whoever said that is right. In high doses, they’re supposed to cause hallucinations, but I don’t think I was stung enough.  
Once I think I’m in the clear, I stop to compose myself. I think we maybe got one. Ajax was the closest, so he probably got the brunt of it. Damn, I can’t imagine a death like that.   
Patroclus.   
I compose myself quickly, because I need to see if he’s alright. If he got out of the tree fast enough he probably is fine, but I don’t know.  
“Lover boy,” I hear Hector call.   
This can’t be good. I could kill him. I could. But I’m dizzy with pain, and I can hardly see straight. If Hector got stung less than me, the likelihood of my beating him is slim. And I can’t run like this, I’m tripping over my own two feet.  
Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, he has me pinned to the ground. His face is swollen slightly from the stings and privately I’m enjoying that. But he’s better off than me. He’s bigger than me, I bet he could handle more.  
“You told him huh?”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, carefully as his sword is at my throat and it would take all of two seconds for him to move it and kill me. My mouth feels dry and I can’t focus on him. He seems to be swaying.   
“You were on watch, so you saw what he was doing. You should have shot him down.”  
I shake my head, and everything else happens very quickly. I manage to get Hector off of me without him slitting my throat, but in the ensuing tussle, he really lands a good slice on my leg.  
And then he stands up and smirks, “If I was feeling merciful, I’d kill you. But I think I’ll let you bleed out. I got a nice slice in.”  
Alright, I know I said those Tracker Jacker stings hurt, but this, this is worse. My entire side feels like it’s on fire and for good measure, Hector lands a kick right on the wound.   
I think I actually whimper.   
“It’s been an interesting day,” he pretends to tip a hat at me, “at the rate you’re losing blood, I don’t expect you to last an hour. We’re going to go hunt down your little boyfriend. If you’re still alive, I will drag him here and I’ll kill him in front of you, just so you can see that before you die. I’ll make him suffer though so don’t worry.”  
He’s right. But there’s nothing I can do to stop him from turning and leaving. There’s no way I can move like this. I had a chance before. A small chance, but a chance. That’s gone now.   
I rack my brain for everything Patroclus has taught me about medicine. The injury hurts so badly, it’s hard to even really think. They could take care of this in the Capitol in about ten minutes, but it might kill me. It’s going to kill me if I don’t figure out what to do.  
Stop the bleeding and make sure it’s clean. That’s always what he says to do. The body can be drained of blood in some ungodly short amount of time.  
I luckily managed to keep my backpack and it’s stuck to my back with blood and sweat. I think hector left it to taunt me. He knows there’s nothing in there that could heal me, but maybe something to keep me alive a little longer.  
I pull myself against a tree and dig around for the water bottle. I’m leaving a nice trail of blood here. Not that that really matters now.  
I know I whimper when I pour some of the water onto the cut. I actually see spots in front of my eyes from how badly it hurts. My head is still spinning and the stings feel like they’re on fire.  
My hands shake as I pull on my sleeve because it’s the cleanest piece of clothing I have and press it to the wound. I can’t stand that for every long and feel a bit lightheaded.  
Patroclus drilled into my head what to do for most injuries but right now all I can recall about what to do in this situation is there’s some flower that’s got a really distinctive look but I don’t know what that look is, or even where to look for it.  
I can’t stay here. Out here in the open, wounded as I am, that little girl from 11 could kill me without breaking a sweat.  
It’s almost impossible for me to stand up. I have to use the tree and even the slightest pressure on my leg makes me almost fall back down.   
I hear a cannon. I can’t even think about the fact that it might be Patroclus. We should never have separated. It was a stupid plan in the first place. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. We were desperate and confused. If you’re in an arena with twenty two other people who want to kill you, I doubt you really think things through.  
I can’t make it far. I get out of the wooded area where Hector pinned me down, and make it to a river. I’m exposed out here, but I really can’t go any further. I’m still bleeding pretty heavily and I know I need to find something to use as a bandage.   
So what I do, is peel off my jacket and wrap it around my entire thigh as tight as I can. This might cause more damage than the original wound would have, but that won’t matter if I bleed out.  
I lean back on a large rock, because my head is pounding.  
A miracle would be nice right now.


	4. Chapter 4

I have little means of keeping track of the time. The sun moves, but I don’t know how much control the Gamemakers have over that. I still have water to drink, and this river is freshwater from what I can tell.   
This is probably going to kill me. I knew I was going to die, that’s not it, but I was going to die after Patroclus was the only other one left, so he’d win. I wasn’t going to die like this.  
I wanted to die of my own volition, so everyone knew that the Capitol could take everything from me but my love for that boy. I was going to die with his name on my lips because they were not taking him from me.   
Now I don’t even know if he’s alive, and I sure as hell can’t keep him alive if I’m dead from this.   
Come on Chiron, wasn’t I likable enough for a sponsor?  
It’s getting dark, and so I put out the fire and just throw the wood into the river to conceal the smoke. It doesn’t matter at this point. They probably have my cannon ready. If I had any bravery I’d find a way to end it myself. But I just want to see him one more time. I want to hold him in my arms and say I love you and I’m sorry and that I promise I’ll wait for him in whatever afterlife is waiting for us after this hell.  
And so I look up at the darkening sky and wait for the list of the dead.  
\------  
I must fall asleep, because the anthem wakes me up. Patroclus is not listed among the dead, but Ajax is. Five more are dead just today alone. When will Patroclus look up and see my face in the sky? Or will I see his first?   
Where is he? I know he would not leave me. I suppose that after the Tracker Jackers he took off to escape and got lost. I’m going to live until he finds me just out of sheer willpower.   
I reach a hand down to touch my wound. It’s sticky with blood, but seems to be bleeding less than before. I pour a little more water on it, and re-cover it. I’m sure I’m doing this wrong.  
I want to stay up because alone and asleep I’m even more of a sitting duck than I was in the daylight, but I’ve lost so much blood and haven’t eaten, and so my eyelids feel heavy.  
My dreams are filled with Hector standing over me, and the sounds of the cannon and the screams of the Careers as the nest falls. I jolt awake around dawn, still alive.   
It hurts worse today, as the stings hurt too. I give myself a few days, max without the intervention of actual medicine. Maybe less, I’m no expert.   
I should move again, but everytime I try to pull myself up I get dizzy and have to sit back down.   
Well this is pretty bad. This can’t be very entertaining for the viewers and so I wonder if they’ll set something on fire, or send more Mutts after me. Hector knows I’m still alive though. Maybe they’re waiting for him to finish me off. I suppose Tributes killing other Tributes makes for a better than the Arena killing us off. I wonder if they get requests from viewers. Kill that one off with a fire. Try to get these two to duke it out.   
I pass the time by thinking. I plan out a life Patroclus and I could have had. We’d have moved in together, gotten a home. Patroclus could still be a healer. They’d never let him quit anyway, he’s too good at what he does. He loves it though. He wants to help as many people as he can.   
We’d get married, the toasting they do back home. I’ve always wanted to marry him.  
Then I remember the ring in my pocket, and I pull it out to look it over. Wedding rings are an old tradition, but a cherished one. Patroclus showed me his stylist put his on a chain for him to wear against his heart.   
My fingers brush the metal. It’s old and a bit tarnished but I love it.   
I hear a cannon. About a minute later there’s another.   
I find myself praying again. If I live long enough, I’ll tell Patroclus to start praying when he gets home as a thank you to whatever God wants to listen.  
“Attention Tributes,” a voice says. That’s interesting. I can’t remember the last time a Gamemaker addressed the Tributes while the Games were still going on. I do everything in my power to focus on the voice, “The previous rule about their being one victor has been… revised. Two victors may be crowned if they are from the same District. This is the only announcement. As always, may the odds be ever in your favor.”  
Two victors. My heart is racing.   
Patroclus and I could both win.   
Suddenly I don’t want to die. I want to live but I don’t know how likely that is, not like this. I’m not accepting my seemingly inevitable death. 

I look up when I hear the running and I know it’s Patroclus by the feel of his arms around me. He ran very quickly. I couldn’t even tell who it was until he was already holding me.  
“I’m so sorry. I was running from the Jackers, then the Careers. Achilles I thought you were dead,” he says in between gasps and kisses, “Oh my God, I’m sorry.”  
“Not dead yet,”I reply, “Although I’m getting there.”  
He lets go of me, and lifts up the jacket to see how bad the wound is.   
Now I know Patroclus very well. Nearly every person who comes to our house with an injury will ask him if they will be alright. When he’s sincere he uses one face and tone. It’s usually a nod, and a you’ll be fine in however long it’s going to take. Casual and caring. When he knows they’re in bad shape, he smiles and puts on this soft voice and says, oh it’s not too bad. He doesn’t want to tell them that they’re probably going to die. He can’t ever manage it.  
“How is it?”  
He looks up and smiles but it’s very forced, “it’s not too bad. You’re ok.”  
See?  
I let him have his way though. I think I am too close to death to argue.  
“We should get out of the open. I killed that girl Career and they aren’t too happy with me,” he says. I notice for the first time the bow slung over his back and the quiver of arrows.  
“You killed her?”  
He nods, “We’ll talk in a bit. Can you stand?”  
“If you help me.”  
He kneels and takes most of my weight. I can’t really stand but I pretend it’s alright. I think that’s my blood on his hands, and I am suddenly very thankful for his ability to treat wounds without getting squeamish. I don’t know how I’d handle it, but sometimes I come home and Patroclus is washing blood off of himself or the table as if it were merely flour, or the remains of dinner.  
“I saw a cave not too far away,” he explains, “Let’s get there. I can put some bushes or something to sort of hide the opening.”  
“Yeah, sure,” I’m finding it more and more difficult to concentrate and so I let him lead the rest of the way.  
\-----  
What he does it set me down and again he balls up his jacket as a pillow for me. Then he opens his bag and gets to work. It’s just like him to collect all those plants and things that have medicinal value.  
I don’t talk to him while he works.   
“When did you eat last?”  
I think, “Day before last maybe? I’m not hungry Pat.”  
He shoves his backpack over, “There’s some bread in there. Eat that slowly. I know you don’t want to. How do you feel besides? Sick? Hot? Cold?”  
“I’m sort of cold I guess,” I say, and he’s right, there is bread, “Where did you get this?”  
“When I got lost I made friends with the girl from District 11, Cressida. She was 12 and I couldn’t save her. They were thankful that I tried and gave her a decent funeral, so they sent me this,” he explains, “You’re probably going into shock, if you haven’t already.”  
I nibble on the bread and I see how much that girl’s death hurt him, how much he’s blaming himself. He pulls out the blanket and offers it to me.  
“How long Patroclus?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know what I mean,” I say, “Be honest with me.”  
“Another two days, three at the very most. I can stop the bleeding, but I can do little to stop a serious infection. I can keep it clean, but I can’t heal it and so it will set in, and you will die and I won’t be able to do a single thing about it. They’ve got medicine for it, but without that, I can’t save you.”  
It sounds like this is very hard for him to say.  
“Then we need to have a plan,” I say, “For you to win.”  
My voice sounds all scratchy, and I notice how slow my words are.  
“You’re not going to die Achilles. I’ll figure something out.”  
“You just said-”  
“I know what I said. Just don’t remind me right now.”  
“Come lay with me.”  
And he does, on my good side. The weight of his body on mine is enough to make me want to live forever. He’s crying ever so slightly, but I don’t mention it. I know he doesn’t want me to see, so I pretend that I don’t.   
“When we go home,” I say, instead of planning for my death, we’ll plan for our future, though that future seems impossibly out of reach, “when we go home I want you to marry me. Let’s do the toast. I want to be married to you Patroclus.”  
“Is this a proposal?” he asks, looking up at me.  
“It is. Are you accepting?”  
“I’ll marry you on the condition that you stay alive long enough for me to.”  
“Deal.”   
I can't promise that. He knows I can't promise that. But it's a nice sentiment.   
Apparently the spectators think so too, as only a few moments later sometime silver and metallic lands just outside.   
“Is that from a sponsor?” I call and Patroclus goes to see.   
He nods, excited, “it's soup. This will help keep you hydrated and it's got meat in it. You'll feel much better after this.”  
“You have some,” I say. He helps me sit up and I can't even hold the damn spoon by myself.   
“I'm alright. You need this more than me.”  
I'm too tired to argue with him.   
\------  
“Attention Tributes,” the voice says that night. We both look up, like we expect to see something. Two announcements in one Games. This is one for the history books, “there is something each of you needs desperately. And as we are gracious hosts, we will be having a feast at sunrise. There you will be able to get exactly what you need. That is all.”  
“Medicine,” Patroclus exclaims, suddenly more excited than I have seen him in weeks, “they'll have that there.”  
“You can't go Pat. It's too dangerous.”  
“You'll die.” He sort of deflates.  
“I know. But you're going to get yourself killed. There's no sense in us both dying.”  
He frowns, “Achilles-”  
“Please. I don't mind dying. I've had time to come to terms with it these past few days. Please Patroclus. Don’t die as well.”  
“Fine,” I actually hear his voice break, “Fine.”  
He lays back down against me and I think I fall asleep.   
\-----  
I don't sleep well. I wake up and go back to sleep. At one point I remember Patroclus telling me I had a bad fever but that could have been a dream. I didn't feel warm. I was freezing. I wonder if this is what it feels like to die.   
At one point I wake up and it dawn. Patroclus is not there. I remember thinking he'd gone off for a walk with Briseis before remembering where we are. It hurts my head to think too hard and I think I pass out again.   
When I do finally come to, Patroclus is leaning over me. His forehead is bleeding but he looks happy. He throws down his bow and rips into a bag with a 12 printed on it and I realize what happened.   
“Who did that?” I ask, reaching up to touch the cut.   
“Paris. He's dead now. The boy from 11 killed him before he could kill me.”  
“I told you not to go.”  
“Shhh,” the medicine feels cool on my cuts and almost numbing, “I needed to save you. You think I had plans to live if you died?”  
“Can I have that?”  
He nods and hands me the salve. I push the hair on his forehead back and put some on the cut. He smiles slightly.   
“This should work Achilles. I think I know what it is and it’s good stuff”  
I nod, “We could go home.”  
“We could.”  
And so I kiss him. I pull him against me and kiss him because when I kiss him things aren't so bad. For a moment we’re alright.   
“Do you remember our first kiss?” I ask, when we pull apart.   
He nods, “In the fields behind the house. I was so embarrassed. I thought you would hate me. Your mother walked in on us. That was before she left.”  
“I wanted to kiss you for so long but I was too scared,” I admit, “I was so glad you did it for me.”  
He laughs and stifles a yawn.   
“I can stay up while you get some sleep. I feel better now.”  
“I suppose. You should drink the rest of that water. I can get more later. I want to clean that out again. Have a little more to eat too.”  
I nod, “I will.”  
He settles down with his head on my lap and I take the time to work on my memorization of him.   
His face is thinner than when we first came here. His skin is tanner too from the sun and there will probably be some new scars. More for me to learn. Maybe I’ll have the time now. Maybe this won’t be it for us. We don’t have to cram all our affection into a small time. I can see his smile every damn morning.  
“Does this mean we can get married?” I ask.   
He laughs, not opening his eyes, “I guess it does. You should try to sleep too Achilles, you lost a lot of blood. We’re relatively safe here. For now at least.”  
“I’ll try. Don’t worry about me. I think I’m going to live. I’ve got a very talented healer.”


	5. Chapter 5

I don’t know how long we sleep, but the first thing I notice is that the cut on Pat’s forehead is basically gone. I look down at my own leg, which in covered in dried blood, but the wound has closed up and doesn’t hurt nearly as much.  
“Oh my God,” Patroclus says when he wakes up, “That worked great.”  
I nod, “We could really do it. We could go home Pat.”  
I've been thinking and saying it but right now I mean it. We could win.  
“We should probably get out of here. We’ve been here long enough and it’s just Hector, that girl from 6 and the boy from 11 left. They’ve got an end in sight,” he says, sitting up and stretching, “I think we should start making our way towards the center. The sooner we go, the sooner we can go home. It’s going to be us and Hector at the end. You know that right?”  
I nod, “I figured. Not many people could take Hector.”  
He starts to pack things up, “I don’t imagine there’s much time left. I haven’t seen the girl for a while, so she’s smart. Achilles, I don’t want to kill anyone else. I can’t.”  
“You’re the healer. I get it. Come on,” I push myself up and it feels weird to stand on my own weight. I haven’t done that for a few days, “I volunteered for a reason didn’t I?”  
Neither of us wants to split up again. I can tell, but we have to, because walking together is going to take too much time. Patroclus goes one way, I go the other. We’ll walk for a bit and meet back here. We’re just looking for signs of life. I feel much better knowing he has a bow and arrow, which leaves me the knife. I don’t think that would be much use against Hector, but I hurry him off before he can realize this.  
I’m on the lookout for food as well. We had that soup and bread probably almost two days ago. Honestly, I’ve known hunger. Back home we often don’t have dinner or we have to skip meals. But maybe I’ve grown accustomed to having food from the week in the Capitol. Or maybe I’m just exerting much more energy here than I do at home.  
I make it maybe a hundred feet when I hear the cannon.  
This is why we didn’t want to split up. I abandon all thoughts of looking for Hector or the girl, and race back to the spot we left.  
Patroclus had the same idea as me, and I can’t help but throw my arms around him.  
“It was the girl from 6,” he breathes into my shoulder, “It was Nightlock.”  
“Nightlock? The poison?”  
He nods and leans back, showing me his handful, “Thought Hector might want a snack.”  
“Brilliant.” I kiss his forehead, “Come on, I’m not leaving your side till these Games are over.”  
\------  
We walk together now, back towards the center. Patroclus remembers some landmarks and so he leads the way.  
“It’s getting dark no?” I ask.  
“I think they’re eager to end this.”  
We both look up at the sound of the cannon- Hector took care of the boy from 11. He’ll be looking for us know. We both realize this, and so he holds my hand a little tighter.  
I wonder if they’re still rooting for young love. I just want to go home to my dad.  
We turn at the sound of someone running. It’s not just one set of footsteps, and despite Hector’s size, he couldn’t make the amount of noise that we hear.  
“I think we need to go,” I say, “I think we should get out of here.”  
Hector comes running, but though he’s clearly interested in killing us he’s more interested in not getting eaten by the giant Mutt dogs that are chasing him.  
Fair enough.  
So we just take off. I think Hector is going to leave us be for a little, do I don’t have to keep turning to see if he’s after me. We’re all going to the same place. Patroclus makes it first, and he gets the smart idea to climb the Cornucopia. The dogs are huge, but they aren’t tall. They claw after us, but they can’t get up. Despite this all, Hector wants to fight.  
He almost pushes me off and I can feel the dog’s breath on me, but Pat manages to throw him off of me. We are both running purely on adrenaline right now, I know that much.  
Hector hooks his arm around Pat’s neck and steps back, close enough to the edge that the dogs get excited. They cry lounder.  
I fumble for the spear Hector dropped.  
“Go ahead,” he laughs, “I’m dead already. But I can still do this.”  
I realise that he means snapping Patroclus’ neck. Pat realizes this too, because, using the blood from this hands, he draws an X on Hector’s hand.  
“Shoot me and we both go down,” Hector says, “Make a choice.”  
I nod, slightly and toss the spear. Hector screams, I dive to grab Patroclus in the nick of time. He’s shaking in my arms.  
There’s a horrible ripping sound from below and Hector screams- “please.”  
I reach down and grab the spear. It fell after hitting Hector and the tip is covered in blood. I draw a deep breath, take aim, and throw.  
The Mutts retreat as quickly as they appeared. The sun reappears and we help each other down. I do not look at the blood that must be Hector’s.  
“Is that it?” I ask. Usually the moment the last cannon sounds there’s an announcer to tell let all of us know who the victor is. No one’s started talking yet.  
“I don’t-”  
“Attention please,” here we go, “the previous rule about the two victors has been revoked and the original rule of a sole victor has been reinstated. That is all.”  
I can honestly see the disappointment on Pat’s face. I’m sure I look the same.  
“So that’s it then,” I say, “You’re going to win. I promised you right?”  
“No.”  
“They need a victor Pat.”  
“I know, hold on,” he throws down his bag furiously, and pulls out the Nightlock from his pocket.  
“Patroclus?”  
“Do you trust me?”  
I nod, and he gives me half of them.  
“Then trust me. On the count of three. I’m not doing this.”  
It’s a standoff, I see that now. If we both take this Nightlock there is no way they could get to us in time. It works too quickly. But if they intervene then we’ve shown them up, made them change their rules.  
He takes my hand and starts to count.  
“One, two-”  
“Stop!” the voice says, “Stop. Ladies and gentlemen may I present the victor’s of the seventy fourth annual Hunger Games.”  
I think Patroclus may have started something. I don’t know what, but I’m too thankful to think too much about it.  
\------  
“They’re not happy with you,” Chiron whispers, the night of our final interviews, “You went against them. You don’t just do that.”  
“I didn’t want to live without Achilles,” Patroclus explains, “That’s why.”  
I don’t think he’s being honest. I think he maybe has another motive, even if it was unintentional. I know his main reason was to take care of me.  
“Then you better sell that,” Chiron warns, “You better go up there and be two boys who are so madly in love that they couldn’t live without each other. Love sick, that’s what I want you to be. Don’t mess this up. You can’t afford it.”  
I nod, “I can do that.”  
Patroclus nods, and reaches for my hand, “So can I.”  
Pandora hurries in because we need to get going. She’s been acting much different lately, less peppy. I don’t know if maybe she’s always like this after the games or if maybe we had an effect on her. Either way, Chiron seems just as surprised by this as us.  
“Did you mean to do something?” I whisper in one of our brief moments alone.  
“I don’t know. At the time I was frantic. I wanted to keep you alive. I realize now what it can be perceived as but at the time it was purely out of love. Now? I don’t know Achilles.”  
I nod, “I get it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”  
“At least until I know what I did.”  
\------  
“Well to begin with congratulations,” Menelaus says, and we smile at the cheering crowd. They do still adore us. I guess they do still care about young love.  
“I think I speak for all of us when I say, we were truly moved by your actions at the end of the Games Patroclus,” he says. I thought maybe they’d wait a little bit, but maybe it’s better to cover this now. It’s the topic on everyone’s mind.  
Patroclus turns to me and beams, “I mean, I just couldn’t even think of going home without him. I was terrified.”  
“And you Achilles?”  
I shrug, “I mean I went into that arena to save his life, and he ended up saving mine.”  
God they love that. A few people are probably crying.  
“Now can we expect a wedding from the two of you?” Menelaus presses.  
Patroclus pretends to be sheepish, “I don’t know. Perhaps. Things will be a bit confusing for a bit, but I’ve been ready to marry him for ages.”  
“And I shouldn’t have waited until I was about to die to ask him.”  
“Well congratulations to you both, truly.”  
\-------  
Up close, President Agamemnon is very intimidating. We both rise for him to crown us.  
He crowns me first, smiling his sickening smile and I try not to meet his eyes. I don’t know what I’ll see when I look into them.  
But then I remember all we've been through and I look up. I'll meet his eyes. He's nothing, not to me anyway.  
He only tells me congratulations but it looks like he says something else to Pat. I bet he's not too happy with us. But I don’t suppose that matters right now. We’re going home, both of us and that’s the only thing that matters.


End file.
